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Peebo Percuso

Ziyah's POV

As usual I'm the first person to wake up and get ready in my household leaving me sitting by the kitchen island drawing the last touches on Sofia's portrait. Next to Daya's it's probably my best work, but that doesn't really mean shit. As if she knows I just finished her drawing Sofia waltzes in in her Christmas pajamas with her thumb in her mouth while holding that raggedy blanket I could've sworn Angela threw in the trash.

"Good Morning Zi Zi," she says and struggles to hop into the seat next to me. When she manages to sit down her face lights up at my sketchbook predicting she's about to use her voice that's too loud for the morning.

"You finished it! It looks just like me, you're like, you're like," she searches for the right word. "Peebo Percuso," she says, and it takes me a moment before I have to hold back my laughter.

"You mean Pablo Picasso?"

She scrunches her face up, and shakes her head. "No his name is pronounced Peebo Percuso, it's French," she says like I didn't spent two years learning the language.

"If you say so," is all I respond with. Peebo Percuso or Pablo Picasso it's still an over exaggerated compliment which Sofia is full of. I finish signing my name in the corner of the portrait, and Sofia's eyes are boring into me as she smiles. I've done this too many times. "Lucky Charms or toast with jam?" I ask.

"Lucky Charms please, and don't skimp on the milk," she concludes as I'm already out of my seat getting the box off the top of the fridge. I don't "skimp on the milk," or the lucky charms because she and Angela are the only ones who eat this sugary shit. Me I'm more of a bagel nigga with scrambled eggs here and there. Angela would probably be this way to if she knew how to put oil on a skillet.

"Thank you Zi Zi," Sofia says. As I hand her the bowl the sound of the front door opening throws me off, and a bit of extra milk spills right in the middle of my pants. Damn.

Sofia of course smiles from cheek to cheek at this while she retreives her bowl making me just sit down, and shake my head. Assuring my beliefs that Angela doesn't know how to tell time, she struts through the front door happy as ever, and into the kitchen to immediately see the stain.

She scrunches up her face, "Eww Zi."

"Haha very funny it's milk you can chill," I say as Angela walks over to Sofia to place a kiss on her cheek.

"Go watch my little pony," Angela whispers and Sofia practically leaves dust behind when she heads into the living room. Angela on the other hand gets rid of her scrunched up face and goes back to her big smile while sitting in the seat across from me.

I don't spend a lot of time looking at Angela, but as my eyes scan her now she looks happy. Too happy for a 23 year old mother living in her mom's house. I can see it in the extra weight in her face, the bright yellow ensemble she's flaunting, and the overall aura about her that's currently lighting up the semi lit room.

"What's going on with you," I ask.

"Me?Oh nothing I'm just moving out," she says too easily for me to actually catch the words I've been waiting to hear for 4 years.

"Wait for real?" She nods and a good portion of her happiness transfers over to me.

"Yup the apartment is already in my name, and it's furnished." She flashes a picture on her phone, and the place doesn't look too bad.

I love Angela and Sofia, but my mom has gained too many stress lines with Angela's constant request,and honestly she's been the star of the Daniels household for quite some time. Plus Angela's been an adult for 5 years it's time for her to do her own laundry, and that's coming from someone who does that. "Where  is the apartment?"